Divine Things (knowing you are in this world)

how
was it?
everything
was silent
quiet.

then you
fell off that
cloud
there was a loud
"thump"
when you
hit the ground.

so we'll play
on some place
reserved for
the divine
a song
inside a
song
to repeat
and refine.

so we'll clutch blankets
against the chill
walk up to the top
to watch the moon
over the hill
where once the fiery
sky
passed into the deep sea of memory
like water
air
like earth colored
eyes that link
us.

the fire in your eyes
sets into the evening moon
you couldn't describe
or like the first time
you remembered my name
in sleep as I dreamed
you remembered my name
losing track of
all space
and time.

Flying Fishing

traipsed over faultlines
savage ignorance
ignored stains on
rainy days
not every droplet
contains
a miracle
or will live again
not every thread
is sewn
into memory
pushed down into
agendas like
a falling Wallenda
on the circus floor
everyone cries and stare
but one by one
they go home
the corpse and the family
are left alone
as the pipe organ plays

Moz Rant 2013

So after canceling his only north american tour, of which only a handful of dates were actually played, he releases a live document of the show he played in Hollywood High as a live film, even going so far as to release the film in theaters. Odd considering he has also just canceled his south american tour. Now whoever is managing him is running contests to get people to come out to the theaters to watch this thing and the tactics just scream "This guy is not being properly managed anymore." So they load up a fake contest with a few paltry items even the most casual of fans will have bought years ago. One copy of the film on DVD, one copy of his first solo album, not even the remastered version-the same shrink wrapped original that has been sitting in the vaults over at Sire for the last 25 years. I feel like since he lost his management deal with Merck about 5 years ago his 'career' has steadily slid from promising to wandering. I have always noted that when he has proper management you can tell. Albums are released when released on time, not delayed. Tours are played with little to no cancelations and appearances are shown up for, not cancelled at the last minute. How many times can one man get food poisoning before he just hires a personally chef to cook for him? Ironic that this recent tour was supposed to be his last-its been one hell of a rickety ride into the great good night.  He speaks of retiring-but to what I don't know. Clearly he has no interest in doing anything else and no skill in anything outside writing and performing. He's not about to open a greasy caffe somewhere in Owlsley or Farnum or somewhere equally mundane and far away from the maddening crowd. So from here to who knows where, with ever diminishing returns on interest and quality. Ho hum....

Black Rabbits Wave From Over The Ocean

all your memories become
crumbs for the birds
flakes for the paint
erasers for pain
crimes to be
reminded of
after clocks have run down
into sand

each loop repeats
time, love, emptiness
the phone is silent
in the brittle fade of lost language
the shadows lope and fade
like new lovers
with old feelings
interesting
with distance
the little things that fall
into cracks
with time
that split apart even a great tree
a natural failure
neither fable nor forgotten dreams
pick over corpses
lay down over fault lines
the sun burns right through
blue eyes to brown eyes
like the young holding a gun
but each weapon is traded for a cane and
eventually, illumination
you don't need to wonder why
each dawn comes announced by paler colors
in its own way we become
wreckage
scrape by through storms and age
to feel until
there are no more feelings
left to feel
or to get back up
somehow and carry what you have
or grow a pair of wings
god forbid we learn to fly
together.

Sometimes I Feel Waves From A Distance

they wrapped whatever
they could find
around your neck
wished you could
turn to clouds
and fly away.
pretended to have a different name
be someone else
just to adopt some faceless pose

you needed them more
than they needed you but
the sea rose and swallowed them
all
we
could all
float away on the seas of hands holding
us down
what would I have done
without you
if I had pretended
to be someone
else?

the lights fade
vans recede
reckless retunes returning
on some alien landscape
the streetlights empty
and dim
unseen,
running for the last
circle reducing its circumference
emitting interference
cut to some
analysis in the future will tackle
by mirroring or meaning
its some miracle
we find an occasional kind touch
a gentle word
the little things people stop to do that we
do for one another
that its always, always, always
nothing, even stardust will
separate this.
we are not separate.
we are.
us.
<3 p="">

Others That Do / Ancient Mariners Sing

would it hurt
you to riddle my
imagination.
sustained but not in pain
this draize trains runs aground again
blind, I might be
but

there are eyes
there are glances
there are imperfect promises
I made to no one
thank you merlin
lead the dragons to the slaughter
for the sins
of all your daughters
fathers
cast to slithering snakes
and doused with gasoline
saxophones and liberty hitting middle C
in the brief moment between death
distraction and promise
in my hand I carry change
lye crystals lay on my hand
burning like lonely boy
held down in the deep end
will the circuit ever make
a connection
or will the bed
just sit there
and burn


dream big
guitars and
boys screaming in imprecise
decibels
sun shines, park lines drawn
in the difference between presets and
what you get to match seasons
treason beckons for whiskey tango fuck the noise
wavelengths disappear in cardio dawn drenched
arpeggios sustained dreams ethering
dithering with hercules
arms wrapped
old films acting as arms
in a mirrored glass reflection

Judo Dancing Polo Agorophonia

Two Views On The Street Where You Live Carravaggio / Electrilinaria

Tiptoe (In A Quiet City)

the creaking floor
unbrushed dust under husks
of dead bugs in the window sills glistening
wind blows, quiet / mercy / set for sailing days
little boy dreams if freedom
instilled with science
sirens, always sirens
in the dark hours
the bodies fall
like clock points
like victimless heroes
laid out to be weathered by the caustic rains

peaches gleam
in the repetition of harvest
captured in this painting
creatures scurry by in the measured hush
of the silos
the pomegranates crushed under
hooves of horses marching in random figures
ghosts of cowboys
riding leather and burlap carpets
dancing in the sky
in ethereal antiquity
riding into silence
sun forgotten trees.

autumn early
here now to earth
any one thing
kept in stasis
too long
left for
forgetting
laughter
running
jumping
standing
barely
quiet
eventually. /

Searched Ebony Extinction Immortal (before "You Were As A Criminal, Kid")

it all came on like a slow rush
a steady pulsing star from
far away
over hills to the sea
from halfway through this story
light laid out but taking years to reach us

was I blind before
at a distance
you there in my blue shadow
walking over black street charms and disarmed doorways
drunk in the thrall of finding some arms
attached to a lover

searched for you
a catch for a trip diverted
hands ripe like thunder in similar but not
same steps

try pull on masks
try to take others off
look for your face
on whoever walks through the door
and fool with disappointment
but it was not you who finally destroyed the illusions
I stopped looking for due to clouds
but found in blue skies inside
you; no longer longing through long nights
lost in dreams of ghost locusts
dream nets to cast and catch
and dismiss
but never room enough to capture
how big this all is
sit inside it
weather storms
astride it
sail off on our dreams tonight
we'll create the photographs
even if life drifts somewhere cruel
or disastrous

America / Scotland / Therapy?

We Can Always Meet Again In Dreams

Fog City Blues

Harry's Early Summer Soliloquy

just a few hundred meters from the sea
what haunts the cliffs of eden
the footsteps that depress the grass are erased in seconds
by the sun and what could have been

a million people
and then a a million people more
and all their ancestors
awash on these shores
all the neophytes and acolytes
and jacobites
looking for redemption
and the light
but they're gone
like fading laughter
echoing in the darkest reaches
of love

but I
never saw
the edges to find out
if they were parallel
if they were gorgeous
or just a hollowed out shell
that the sea washes through
in the hands of
children wishing for mermaids
with flowing hair
and songs of doom
they let their locks down
in this seaside town

the birds fly by
where once lizards escaped from the drag of time
to grow wings, what other creatures were here
when eons tortured this mountain
once at the bottom of the ocean
where you cannot see
all the things your cells
were once supposed to be
faint creatures made out of nothingness
going to nothingness
being as nothing is
feigning importance
of existence
solitary clings to you like rust
gathers in the cracks of the clocks
stranded in back rooms tackled via gold
where you forget to dust

(unfinished)

Blow by Blow

Finally a posting on my art blog.

90 days ago was my last post. 3 months. no art for three months. 3 fucking months.

Enjoy that cruise. Really. Enjoy it.

But you know what? It may have slowed my output, but it didn't stop it.

You're not that powerful or able. not in a 100 years.

My brain kicked back and right on track: More art.

Its been a rare experience in my life not to make any new work for such a long period. there are no words, just raw anger. And your unbridled selfishness? I made it into beauty. You were an unscrupulous, unprofessional boss, a inconsiderate slob and liar as a roommate and a terribly emotionally abusive/emotionally distant partner not to mention a self absorbed and self interested friend. Any redeeming qualities as a human are all down to being nothing more than a trash receptacle for cum. Good luck with that - now that you've blown all your good fortune.

Begone bad spirits. Begone!

Feline Photomontage

He Knows, He Knows, He Knows...

even the darkness is the back of sunlight / rain makes the beautiful flowers

Rant In Angst Minor / elluvial absolutical

what a week! what a weak! what a wreck!

holy shitballs batman! seriously, who the fuck found the rug that was underneath me and pulled hard?

The walls and sea of cardboard continue to rise and slosh before me.
The place is in turmoil, impossible to clean or to straighten.
there is no place to put my feet where boxes or wrapped packages or cats
do not suddenly appear.
I am the ballet dancer in a minefield.
I dancing-yes, as fast as I can!
someone puts a record on.
someone else puts a record on.
the radio, toaster, alarm clock, cat, refrigerator,
downstairs washing machine,
crazy neighbors, banging doors, showering tricks upstairs
through it all I crawl
around things, over boxes to get to other boxes
looking for the box I put so and so inside
so I wouldn't, uh, forget...uh...what were we talking about?

Peter Murphy, a hero, brought down. Someone I respected. admired.
Michelle Shocked, someone who I thought talented, now strung out, homophobic and lunatic.
Morrissey, my teenage father figure and reason for being, sickened with middle age maladies.
a long term friend, her nearly 20 year relationship over...so much sadness
people I haven't heard from in years
wanting answers
wanting something they don't need
wanting something they don't want
so much change.
so much chaos...that I can't change
so much rage I can't put any place
except inside somewhere
in the hollow caverns carved out in childhood.

I'm doubting myself, surely-but I am not out.
one thing I learned from my mistakes: voice it.
holding it inside forever(as opposed to temporary storage which is a-okay in Imperfect-Land)
never helps anything.
everything is changing
change is the nature of everything.

Old photos of San Francisco, my home
unfamiliar places and people now only a memory
and somewhere in there is me
my shadowy black and white memories
my birth
my rebirth.
my cocooning
hiding from the sun
not sure If I am the butterfly dreaming he is still a caterpillar
or the caterpillar dreaming he is the butterfly
or both.
a baby is born
and a women is stabbed
somewhere people are suffering far more than I
and another shapeless formless night
passes underneath the streets
when the tears come.


Thank goodness I have you.

Confidential To The Boy Who Hugs Teddy Bears

a
butterfly
floats by
in a cathedral
the walls
are there
unsupported
confidential
going ever onwards
up to the
sky
where
dreams rain
down in time
to diamonds do
you stay there
to catch
them
do you
dare.


some great
unsecret
whispered
in an
outspoken
moment.
don't worry
its confidential
Teddy knows...

Tides Over Ides

what color will
they make the leaves be
in the new spring
what color will they invent
this year and
call it green
the fingerlings will grow
through whatever
directing the earth helps
it see
but we don't know
what of it?
and we don't know
the unknown
for sure.

Let's Go / It Begins / !!! / Time for a Re-Invention

here's a story, no
it goes like this:

every star
is exploding
and imploding
at the same time
we are its instant
the rush of wind that sucks in
before the backdraft burns like the sun
that black space
that immeasurable distance
we can't map or create
lost signals
go into nowhere
but out here
you see the distance
its a hindrance
spaceships only last for so long
your bones grow thin
oxygen renewal grows dim
better to find a safe place to calm down

on a hill
maybe 100 years ago it was high
lonely hill
calling out to birds
and bees
and daffodils
we are here together
we have always been here before
we were grass before this
before the birds,
the lizards
the eggs, mammals
and the secrets of the bottom
of the seas
see?

before I saw your face
on the stairs
I saw your face in the stars
in the dew on the window
on some sleepless morning
I saw your face in air
condensing
as I had expected it to be
life has a way of reminding me
every so often, to just 'give up'
only control, wanting too much
complicates,
entropy is honesty
There is no mystery
death is not scary, really.
life is far more a thrill
but some parasites attach themselves
to your kite
when the flame of your dreams
ignites
always (Solutions / working in place / current block to ecstasy)

this wouldn't be here without you - you know that, right?

some fucking seriously bullshit people from the past
like run off  cliff stupid - we're trying harder - than their whole lives
ungrateful relations not relative to our lives - we outstrip them.
just bad dreams ebbing ever onward into dust
buried in amber for the next pack of idiots
to get caught up in daydreams
I found a dragon who could fly
lets fly away from
this dog and pony show
slough off these cobwebs,
blow this popsicle stand
and go baby, go.

On-fucking-Wards